


The Horror Not To Be Surveyed

by gunsforeyes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunsforeyes/pseuds/gunsforeyes
Summary: Mako Rutledge is a reclusive hog farmer who only wants to be left alone. But when a strange being calling itself a demon starts attacking his livestock and stealing things from his shed, he is forced to reevaluate everything he thought he knew.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	1. It Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> the krampus junkrat skin awakened something in me
> 
> -
> 
> title taken from Emily's Dickinson's [The Loneliness One Dare Not Sound](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-loneliness-one-dare-not-sound/)

Mako sat on his porch in his rocking chair, shotgun laid across his lap, his jaw set and his eyes scanning the yard. The porch light was off, but his heavy flashlight was in close reach. Tonight was the night he was going to catch whatever had been causing havoc on his property. 

First, it had been the hogs. He’d found Rosalie with her throat and gut torn out, her entrails tangled beside her. There had been bites taken out of her, but the marks weren’t from any animal Mako could identify. Something with a small jaw, and sharp teeth. They almost looked human, but humans didn’t have canine teeth like that, couldn’t rip through a grown sow as easily as a piece of bread. And there weren’t any other people around for miles.

Then he’d noticed things going missing from the shed. Just little things here and there, enough that Mako couldn’t blame it on misplacing them. A screwdriver, a few nuts and bolts he’d left out, and then bigger things. Parts from his tractor. And scorch marks left on the floor. 

Dingoes weren’t common, but they weren’t unheard of around here, and Mako could have rationalized the attack on the hogs if that had been all there was. But there was more to it. Possibly some disturbed bastard hiding in the swamp. Must have a dog with him, since no tools had been used to kill or eviscerate Rosalie. 

Whatever it was, it died tonight. Mako didn’t take kindly to trespassers at the best of times, and this one had long overstayed its welcome.

He waited in the dark, in silence, his hand on the gun. Safety off, three shells, one in the chamber, and another five in his pocket. Mako wouldn’t need more than one, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The night dragged on. The air was thick and muggy, and Mako ignored the sweat beading on his temple. A cane toad croaked nearby, echoing loudly in the stillness. He heard soft shuffling from the swamp beyond his eyeline, but didn’t pay it much mind. Just the usual sounds of usual nocturnal creatures. He was after a different kind of creature tonight. 

The moon climbed higher in the sky, the cloud cover beginning to part, lending everything an eerie brightness. Mako was not a man given to sentimentality or flights of fancy, but he suppressed a shiver. Something was different. Something felt wrong. 

The screams of the hogs confirmed his suspicions. He leapt to his feet, shotgun in one hand and flashlight in the other, and raced to the pen. Mako wasn’t especially fast, but he could sprint when he needed to. Especially when he had a goal in mind. 

The hogs were still screaming when he reached them, scuffling and kicking and overturning their feed trough. So whatever was in there with them hadn’t been scared off by Mako’s approach.

Good.

Mako held his shotgun at the ready, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. The intruder was blocked by one of the boars, Remy, who lashed out with a hoof. Mako heard a very human _“oof!”_ in response. 

Well, at least now he knew it could be killed by a shotgun. Pigs would eat a human body, leaving almost no trace behind, but Mako wasn’t sure he was interested in a breakfast of man-fed bacon. But there was a perfectly good swamp close by. That would do fine, too.

_“Fuck!”_ he heard the voice say, in a wild, grating tone. _“Stop_ it, you little buggers!”

Mako fired a warning shot into the air, causing the hogs to scatter in panic, and the thing crouched there looked at him in wide-eyed alarm. He yanked the flashlight out of his pocket and turned the light on it. 

_It’s definitely human,_ he thought, and, _There’s no way that’s human._

Its eyes glowed, reflecting the light. Tapetum lucidum. Humans didn’t have that, only nocturnal animals. Its shape was humanoid, if lanky and taller than average and _red,_ and it seemed to be naked, patchy dark fur on its forearms, chest, and groin. The hair on its head looked to have been partially burnt. It was streaked with grime and it was wearing something on its head, amidst that sooty hair. Mako refused to acknowledge that it looked like horns. The long, pointed ears had to be prosthetics too.

Its left leg ended in a hoof, and it was missing part of its right arm, and part of its right leg. But below the knee there was some kind of makeshift pegleg, and Mako recognized the parts it had been made from. The missing ones from his shed. 

“What the fuck are you?” he growled, refusing to let his voice shake. Some freak dressed up in a realistic costume, most likely. In bright light, he’d be able to see the seams, the glue on the horns. 

The thing didn’t move, eyeing the shotgun with wary recognition, but it grinned, baring sharp white fangs. _“Hungry.”_

Mako shot it.

It screeched, falling backwards into the mud, and the hogs echoed his scream, edging themselves further into the corner of the pen. Mako hated having to work them up like this, but at least no more of them would die. 

He pumped the shotgun again, letting the empty shell fall to the ground and another take its place. His aim had been a little thrown off, to his chagrin, but the thing should stay down, at least. 

It didn’t. The torrent of curses it unleashed made even Mako, hardly a shrinking violet, blink, impressed despite himself. It writhed in the mud, kicking and flailing, and even the pigs were terrified into silence. Mako saw one clawed hand reach out of the muck, and then there was a bright light that seared his eyes and a deafening explosion, knocking him backwards onto the ground. 

He was dazed for only a moment. Blindly, he reached for his gun, gripping it firmly when his fingers brushed against the muzzle. He pulled himself to his feet, and surveyed the situation. 

The shed was on fire. He blinked a few times, and it stayed on fire. 

First things first. He burst into the pen, where the creature was trying to sit up, and rammed it in the forehead with the butt of his gun. Its eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed back into the mud. 

Next, the pigs. There was a fenced passage that would lead them to the barn, and he hurriedly unlatched it and ushered them through to its safety. They were more than happy to get away from the horrible muddy _thing,_ and he had to stop them from trampling each other in their panic. The night was still with no wind, and the barn was far enough away from the shed that it was unlikely the fire would spread. 

Mako rushed to the shed, and stopped when he was close enough to feel the heat from the flames on his face. He sighed heavily. 

The roof had collapsed entirely, or rather, had been scattered all around the yard by the explosion. He didn’t have access to the amount of water needed to put out the fire. All he could do was wait for it to burn itself out. 

His shed. He’d built it with his own two hands, and it would soon be gone. His hogs, his machinery, and now his shed. 

Rage to match the inferno smoldered inside him. He marched back to where the thing still lay unconscious, grabbing it by the arm and dragging it outside of the pen, and upending the water trough on it. It coughed weakly, its eyes fluttering open, and he shoved it against the ground, pinning it with his bulk. 

“What,” Mako rumbled, “did you _do?”_

Its eyes were glassy and unfocused. “Christ, you’re a fat fucker, ain’t you,” it wheezed.

Mako grabbed one of its large, curled horns and yanked, hard, expecting it to come off in his hand. All that happened was the thing shrieked in pain, ineffectually clawing at him. Mako dodged its intact hand, grabbing its wrist. “Fuckin - knock it off, you bloody savage!” it hissed. “You wanna go up like your barn did?”

Mako froze, but only for a moment. With his free hand he lifted the shotgun, placing the barrel square between the creature’s eyes. “Try it.”

It grinned, its eyes wild and gleeful. It opened its mouth to speak, but its expression twisted in pain, and it coughed again, black blood on its lips. Mako could see where the pellets had met flesh on its chest. He’d shot from close range. It should have done much more damage. The thing shouldn’t be able to speak, much less fight him. 

“Bastard,” it hissed, glaring at him venomously. “I’m bloody sick of eating swamp rats and frogs. A nice fat hog now and then ain’t gonna break your back.”

Mako should have pulled the trigger, but then he remembered. He’d found one of the furthest bear traps he’d laid around his property in pieces and mangled, looking like it had been melted. Traces of burnt flesh scattered nearby. There had been no explanation for it and no further incidents with the traps, so he’d assumed some freak lightning event and had to put it out of his mind. That had been months ago.

And the scars on the stub of the thing’s right arm looked a lot like burn scars. 

Mako took a deep breath, reeling. This thing had been on his land for a lot longer than he thought, and only recently had it dared to venture this close. The red paint on its skin hadn’t come off with the mud, or the water, or the pellets from the shotgun. The horns were fixed firmly on its skull. Its golden eyes that reflected light showed no telltale circle around the irises from contacts. Not that he knew of any contacts that could mimic night vision, anyway. 

And there was something he couldn’t see creeping around his ankle like a vine, warm and tight and trembling, and he knew with dread in his gut that it was a tail. 

There were too many questions. If he killed it now, he knew he’d be up every night for the rest of his life wondering just what the hell it was, how it had gotten here. How it had blown up his shed from hundreds of feet away, with what looked like a mere gesture.

Mako let out a heavy breath. “Get that thing off my leg,” he said lowly, “and we’ll talk.”

Immediately, the sensation disappeared, and there was a quiet rustling in the grass. The thing gave him a sideways grin, almost looking abashed, even as it was twisted in pain. “Sorry, mate,” it said. “Has a mind of its own sometimes.”

Mako shook his head. There was no good way to respond to that. “Listen. I…” He cleared his throat, fully aware of how absurd his next words would be. “I can fix you up. Get you something to eat. Something better than raw pig. But you have to quit blowing things up. And you’re gonna answer a few of my questions.”

The thing coughed again, but its eyes were bright. “You got yourself a deal.”


	2. It Slumbers

Mako had spoken more words in the last few minutes than he had in the past few months, but the thing he dragged into the house with him seemed to have no such restraint. It held on to his arm, chattering even as it wheezed for breath, attempting to clamber up onto his shoulders. Mako firmly plucked its hand off of him every time it tried, but it didn’t seem to notice. 

“Nice place you got here,” it said, “great setup. Everything’s _very_ flammable, _BOOM!”_ It waved a hand at nothing in particular, stumbling over the porch steps, its metal leg clanking against the boards. It giggled madly for no reason that Mako could discern, and Mako winced at the sound. “You like it out here, all alone? Just you and the beasts? No one to talk to, no one to keep you warm on the long cold lonely nights? No one to -”

Mako could see by the lascivious grin on his face what he was gearing up to, and cut him off. “Yes.”

That silenced him, but only briefly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “Me, too.”

Mako frowned as he shouldered the door open, keeping his foot against it as he helped the thing come inside. He was lying. 

“Are there more of you?” Mako asked, and the thing waved again, lazily. “Oh, sure. Tons.”

Mako waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. His eyes gleamed as he took in the room around him. Mako’s cabin was homely and cozy, if sparsely decorated, the wood furniture old but comfortable. A few landscapes hung on the wall, a furnace quiet in the corner. Nothing special to Mako, except insofar that it was his home, but the creature eyed it all greedily. 

Mako shut the door behind him, then, as an afterthought, locked it. “Come on,” he growled, shifting the thing’s weight against him. Up close, he smelled like dirt and blood and smoke. “Sit down here. _Don’t_ touch anything. I’ll be right back.”

As quickly as he could, he gathered up his first aid kit and grabbed a hunk of raw bacon wrapped in paper from the fridge. When he reentered the living room, the thing was crouched on top of the antique wooden buffet, tracing a finger along it and leaving a slight scorch mark. His tail swished, and black blood dripped from his chest onto the wood. 

Mako strode over to him and yanked him by his horn, dragging him back to the chair. He yowled in protest, fixing Mako with a ferocious glare. 

“Go ahead,” Mako said warningly, “but I bet you don’t know how to take care of a gunshot wound, do you? And you’ll still be hungry, and you’re in no shape to wrestle with the hogs again.”

His eyes narrowed, but Mako could tell his words had gotten through. The thing snarled at him, smoke curling out of his mouth, but nothing exploded. 

“Here,” Mako said gruffly, handing the slab of bacon to him, and getting out the tweezers. “Eat this and hold still.”

The thing frowned at it suspiciously. “It’s cold.”

“What are you, royalty? You eat raw meat. It’s meat.”

“It’s _cold,”_ the thing insisted, and the bundle in his hands caught fire. 

Mako stumbled backwards, a curse on his lips, but the fire didn’t spread beyond the thing’s hands. It was only a moment before the fire sputtered itself out, leaving a burnt lump where it had been. The creature eyed it, then shoved it in his mouth. “Not as good as raw,” he said, between loud crunching.

“Better when it’s not burnt,” Mako muttered. “Hold still.” 

He held the tweezers steady, peering at the damage. In the better light, he could tell the slugs hadn’t gone too deep, hadn’t penetrated bone or organs. The blood the thing was coughing up was probably more from the impact than anything. 

“How did this not hurt you more?” he wondered aloud. He glanced up at the thing’s face, grimy and sharp. He met Mako’s gaze with those unearthly golden eyes, and licked crumbs of burnt bacon from his lips with a forked tongue. Mako shook his head. “Do you have a name? I can’t keep calling you ‘the thing.’”

He realized that somewhere along the way he’d stopped thinking of the creature as “it,” and started calling it “him.” He wasn’t even sure it _was_ a him. Maybe whatever it was didn’t have sexes or genders like humans did. 

The creature scoffed. “I’m not a _‘thing.’_ I’m a demon. S’probably why your gun didn’t hurt me that bad.” He tapped long claws impatiently against his metal leg, his body fairly thrumming with nervous energy. “You wouldn’t be able to say my name. Demon language. You know. You can call me Junkrat.”

He glanced at Mako with amused disdain. “And what do they call you? ‘Hog’?”

“Mako,” Mako said firmly. Junkrat… that wasn’t a name. That was a joke. But he had to admit, it did seem to fit the creature in front of him. 

The… demon. The demon, Junkrat.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Demons aren’t real.” 

Junkrat shrugged, his gaze traveling around the room. “Mako. Maaay-ko. If you say so. You gonna get these things out of me, or what?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mako heaved a sigh, digging the tweezers in. Junkrat jolted, letting out another horrendous screech. Mako stopped, waiting for him to be finished. He had the feeling this was just theatrics. 

“You took a shot to the chest at close range with no trouble, but you’re whining about this?”

“It huuurts,” Junkrat moaned. 

“Gonna hurt a lot worse if it gets infected.” Could demons get infections? Well, they could bleed, so maybe. “And it will, if you stay holed up in the swamp.”

Junkrat snarled, his leg bouncing. Blood from the wound on his forehead where Mako had knocked him out dripped down into his eye, and he wiped it away impatiently. “You’re the one who shot _me._ You could be a little more gentle.”

“And you’re the one who killed my hogs, and blew up my shed,” Mako said with a growl. “I could be a lot _less_ gentle.”

Junkrat’s mouth snapped shut, and he sneered at Mako, but didn’t argue further. There was something in his strange eyes, something like mischief and something like pleasure. He puffed out his chest silently, and Mako carefully dug out the first slug, setting it aside. 

Seeing Junkrat in the light it was clear he wasn’t wearing a costume. Mako knew this, had known this from the moment he first saw him, but now he had to accept the baffling reality. Junkrat may or may not be a demon, but he certainly wasn’t human, or an animal, and those were really the only two options, weren’t they? 

Up close, his skin was rust red, with darker shades at his joints and his cheeks, and it was strangely cool for someone who exhaled smoke. Mako was suddenly, uncomfortably reminded that the only thing he wore was thatches of fur. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Junkrat’s slender chest.

“You alright down there?” Junkrat said, squinting at him. “You’re turning red, mate.”

“We’re gonna have to find you some clothes,” Mako grumbled.

A slow grin began to form on Junkrat’s face and he stretched out his legs around Mako, his arms crossed behind his head. “Doesn’t bother me. You sure you don’t like me like this?”

Mako stood up, pulling himself to his full and impressive height, and grabbed Junkrat by the throat. The demon’s eyes went wide, his claws coming up to scrabble against Mako’s arm. “Shut _up,”_ Mako rumbled. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

He let go, returning to his work, and Junkrat rubbed at his throat distantly. “Whatever you say,” he said, sounding breathless. Mako felt Junkrat’s tail start to wind around his leg again. 

He must be a demon. What other creature would act like this, so shortly after getting shot and then knocked unconscious?

“Tail,” Mako reminded him roughly, and Junkrat let out a ragged laugh. “Right. Right.”

Junkrat was strangely silent throughout the rest of Mako’s ministrations, only occasionally letting out small squeaks of displeasure when the tweezers went too deep. When Mako was finished, he stood up, sighing. He looked down at Junkrat, and Junkrat met his eyes. There was a look in them that Mako couldn’t place.

“Clothes,” Junkrat said, and Mako frowned down at him. “What about them?”

“How long am I staying? If I gotta wear clothes, and all.”

“Oh.” Junkrat’s eyes on him were uncomfortable. “Til I get some answers.”

“Didn’t ya get them already?”

“I’ll say when they’re answered,” Mako shot back, and Junkrat’s ears went back against his skull, but there was a smile playing on his lips. “Food first?” he said hopefully.

_“Bath_ first,” Mako said, “then food. Then we need to bandage you.”

Junkrat grimaced, his teeth bared in displeasure. His eyes scanned the room, likely looking for the best escape route. “Pass.”

“No ‘pass.’ You’re in my house, you’re gonna be clean.”

“Water kills demons,” Junkrat said, looking crafty. “Melts us. Poof! Up in smoke. That what you want?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Mako reminded him. “I poured a whole hog trough of water on you outside and you’re fine.”

“Soap!” Junkrat said. “Soap. I meant soap.”

“Nope,” Mako said. “Don’t make me have to throw you in.”

In the end, Mako did have to throw him in. He had to drag a squalling, clawing demon to the bathroom and hold him down in hot water until his energy ran out, then toss him a washcloth and leave. This was not how he thought this day would go.

He listened closely outside the door for any sounds of destruction, but all he heard were grumbles and petulant splashing. A few minutes later, Junkrat emerged, dripping and sullen and smelling like coconut. He flashed Mako a venomous glare. 

Without all the grime and soot caked on him, Junkrat looked far younger and far less monstrous than he had before. Mako thought he could see freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks, and for some reason, his chest seized. 

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Like a million years,” Junkrat said, draping himself across the couch. “Food?”

Mako rubbed the bridge of his nose, reaching for the gauze and antibiotic cream. “In a second.”

Junkrat eyed him distrustfully. “I don’t need all that shit. I’m fine.” 

“Maybe so,” Mako said, “but I’m not letting you bleed all over my house.” He bent down, pulling the grumbling Junkrat to a seated position, then hesitated, handing the cream to Junkrat. “Rub that in.”

For a split second, something that looked like hurt crossed Junkrat’s face. Then it was gone, replaced by a sneer. He did as he was told, and then hurled the tube across the room, as hard as he could. Mako didn’t react. He wasn’t going to encourage tantrums. 

He unraveled some of the gauze and held it in place over the wounds with one hand, wrapping it around Junkrat with the other. Junkrat trembled when Roadhog’s fingers brushed his bare skin, letting out a soft breath.

“What is it?”

“You’re… warm,” Junkrat said wonderingly. 

“I would’ve thought you’d like warmth. With the whole fire thing.”

“I do.”

Mako glanced up, and Junkrat’s eyes were hungry. Desperate. Mako quickly looked away, unsure of how to respond. 

“Your world is so cold,” Junkrat said, and shivered. “So bloody cold.”

“I guess hell was hotter, huh?” Mako chuckled, but Junkrat didn’t laugh. “Hell was a lot of things,” he replied enigmatically. 

Mako surveyed his work. This was the best he could do with what he had on hand, and it may have been overkill, like Junkrat said. “Okay. Food. Do you eat anything but meat?”

Junkrat wrinkled his nose, and Mako took that as a no. There was some sausage left in the fridge, and he considered throwing it on the stove, but decided against it. Junkrat could eat it raw, or burn it. He wasn’t running a hotel. 

Junkrat did burn it, and devoured it with a gusto like starvation. Mako watched him, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. What was he supposed to do with him? Just turn him loose to live in the swamps again? That was no life for a person, even a feral one. Even a demonic one. 

“How’d you lose your arm? And your leg?” he asked. 

“Trap,” Junkrat said, between noisy chewing. “Got my leg caught. Tried to blow it up. Boom! Well, it worked.”

Mako tried to pretend that didn’t make him feel sick inside, thinking about Junkrat screaming in pain and terror, panicking, scrambling away into the swamp to bleed alone. Scavenging pieces from Mako’s equipment just to be able to get around. 

“Okay,” Mako said, letting out a breath and dragging fingers through his hair. “I’m going to sleep. _Don’t_ go anywhere.”

“Don’t want to,” Junkrat said cheerfully, and Mako supposed that made sense. Here, he was protected from the elements, given free food. “Alright. You can have the couch. I’ll… get you a blanket.”

Junkrat sat up ramrod straight, staring at Mako with wide, desperate eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Do you see a bed in here?”

Junkrat’s ears drooped, and even with the horns, the fangs, the glowing eyes, it made for a pathetic picture. “I can’t sleep with you?”

Mako blinked, taken aback. “Uh…”

“Please!” Junkrat sprang to his feet, stumbling. He put his hand on Mako’s chest, looking up at him beseechingly. “You’re… so warm. And I don’t -”

He cut himself off, but there was true misery in his eyes, beneath all the drama and boisterous energy. _“Please.”_

“Okay,” Mako sighed, and was surprised at himself, how quickly he’d given in. “Fine. But I’m going to _sleep._ So… be quiet. And don’t cause trouble.”

The relief on Junkrat’s face was so naked Mako almost felt embarrassed looking at it. “No noise! No trouble. On my life.”

“Clothes first,” Mako said gruffly.


	3. It Devours

They found a pair of pajama pants that fit Junkrat, once the pant legs had been rolled up and the drawstring pulled tight. Mako had dug out a t-shirt, too, but Junkrat firmly refused to put it on. He would take a bath, he said, and he would eat burnt meat, and he would let himself be bandaged, but this was where he put his foot down. Mako didn’t have the energy to argue. 

“Stay on your side,” Mako said as he got into bed, pulling the blanket over him, and his instruction was promptly ignored. Junkrat curled up close to him, his arm thrown over Mako’s chest and his tail once again finding its way around Mako’s leg, and he let out a contented sigh. 

“Off,” Mako said sharply. “Off. Your side.”

“This is my side,” Junkrat said, and made a low rumbling sound. It took Mako a moment to realize that it was something like a purr. 

“Get _off._ Don’t make me push you.”__

_ _“Fuck, you’re warm,” Junkrat mumbled, and buried his face in Mako’s side. _ _

_ _“I’ll send you back to the couch.”_ _

_ _“Thought you were tired.” Junkrat yawned, stretching and settling back against him. “Thought you were _so_ tired. Said I wouldn’t cause trouble.”_ _

_ _“This _is_ trouble. _You_ are trouble.”_ _

_ _“Yeah,” Junkrat agreed sleepily, and promptly began to snore. _ _

_ _A demon. There was a demon curled up against him, in his bed, wearing his pajama pants, smelling like his shampoo. A demon that had eaten one of his hogs and blown up his shed and withstood a shotgun blast to the chest. _ _

_ _Maybe Mako had simply lost his mind, after spending so much time alone. It could just be all a very convincing hallucination. Or perhaps he’d fallen asleep on the porch when he was meant to be keeping watch, and had dreamt this as a way to make sense of things. _ _

_ _It didn’t actually make much sense at all, but Mako supposed that dreams didn’t, either. _ _

_ _He didn’t sleep that night, although whether it was from the strangeness of his bedfellow or his utter loss at what to do next, he wasn’t sure. Junkrat’s strange half-snore, half-purr was oddly comforting, but his periodic thrashing certainly wasn’t. Every time he did this, Mako woke him up and told him sternly to knock it off, and Junkrat just blinked blearily at him - he had those strange third eyelids that cats did - and muttered something incomprehensible before falling back to sleep. He slept like the dead, if the dead thing was a zombie. There was no way Mako would be able to endure another night of this. Junkrat got the couch tomorrow, and no amount of begging or puppydog eyes was going to change that. _ _

_ _The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. This thing had shown up out of nowhere and terrorized him, and here he was taking it in like it was a lost puppy. It had to stop. He didn’t owe Junkrat anything. If he’d been stupid and careless enough to get his leg caught in a trap intended for dumb animals, he deserved what he got. _ _

_ _Shortly before the sun came up, he shook Junkrat awake for the final time that night. “Get up,” he said. “We have work to do.”_ _

_ _Junkrat groaned, clutching blindly at Mako, trying to pull him back down to the bed. “S’not my farm,” he mumbled. _ _

_ _“You blew up my shed. _You’re going to help me fix it.”__ _

_ _“The fuck I am.” The words were undercut slightly by the sleepy roughness of his voice, and he tangled himself even further in the blankets. Mako grabbed him by both horns, pulling Junkrat’s face up to his. “You’re going to help me fix it.”_ _

_ _“Oh,” Junkrat breathed, and the sleepiness in his eyes was slowly replaced by something else. The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. “You gonna make me?”_ _

_ _“Yes.” Mako scooped him up - tall as he was, he hardly weighed a thing - and dropped him on the floor. Junkrat screeched like a man dying, but he’d been shot in the chest and all but shrugged it off, so Mako figured he’d survive a couple bruises. “It’s your fault it needs fixing.”_ _

_ _“I only blew it up cause you _shot_ me!” Junkrat hissed back, clutching for the blankets to drag them onto the floor with him. _ _

_ _Mako yanked them out of his reach. “You were eating my livestock.”_ _

_ _“I was _starving!”__ _

_ _“Then you’ll eat,” Mako said, crossing his arms, “and then we’ll get to work on the shed.”_ _

_ _He headed into the kitchen, betting that one, Junkrat would be smart enough not to go back to sleep, and two, that he was still hungry enough to come sniffing around once he smelled food cooking. _ _

_ _Scrambled eggs. Fried potatoes. Avocado on toast. And, of course, plenty of bacon. It was only a little more than he made for himself ordinarily. He wasn’t going out of his way for Junkrat. Junkrat would just be easier to deal with once he was fed. _ _

_ _Mako had guessed right - Junkrat came slinking around the corner shortly after Mako started cooking, hopping onto the counter a foot away and watching with wide eyes. _ _

_ _“Get off the counter,” Mako grunted, not looking up. _ _

_ _“I took a bath,” Junkrat said indignantly, as though that excused bare feet - or, rather, a hoof and a pegleg - on a surface where food was prepared. _ _

_ _“Doesn’t matter. Get off.” _ _

_ _Junkrat bared his teeth, but Mako didn’t so much as turn his head toward him. After a few seconds, he grew bored of being ignored and slid off the counter, creeping close to Mako. He reached out to grab a slice of bacon out of the pan, and Mako slapped his hand away. _ _

_ _“It’s not like I’ll get burned,” Junkrat said sullenly, eyes fixed on the pan. _ _

_ _“Don’t want your grubby hand in the food. You’ll wait til it’s done.”_ _

_ _Junkrat was suspiciously quiet, and Mako heard soft tapping sounds behind him. He could clearly envision Junkrat preparing to launch himself onto his shoulders, and he whirled around just in time to see Junkrat half-crouched, looking guilty. _ _

_ __“Don’t,”_ Mako warned, pointing the spatula at him. Junkrat’s ears went back, and his expression changed to one of abject misery. “I’m _bored,”_ he whined. _ _

_ _“You lived in the swamp for months. At least. You weren’t bored there.”_ _

_ _“Plenty to do in the swamp,” Junkrat muttered. _ _

_ _“Yeah? Then go back there. Go eat some more swamp rats.”_ _

_ _“Rats aren’t that bad.” _ _

_ _“Then what are you still doing here?” Mako picked up the tongs, carefully flipping the bacon. “Go for your life.”_ _

_ _“How long?” Junkrat asked._ _

_ _“Long as you want. I don’t care, long as you don’t mess with my farm.”_ _

_ __“No,”_ Junkrat said with a huff. “How long til you’re done?”_ _

_ _Mako hid a smile. “Five minutes.”_ _

_ _Junkrat heaved a sigh. “Can I at least _sit_ on the counter?”_ _

_ _Mako eyed the space beside him. At least Junkrat was wearing pants still, and he could always wipe it down later. “Fine. What is it with you and climbing on things?”_ _

_ _“I like it.” Junkrat pulled himself up awkwardly with his one arm, crossing his ankles and swinging his legs. He leaned a little too close to the stove, but didn’t reach out. _ _

_ _Mako avoided looking at the stump of his arm. The cobbled-together leg. Mako’s fault, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. He hadn’t known Junkrat was out there, and Junkrat had been careless, but the fact remained that if Mako hadn’t set those traps Junkrat would still have an arm and a leg. The lack of his limbs didn’t seem to bother him unduly, but that didn’t make what had happened any less serious. _ _

_ _Mako turned, taking plates out of the cabinets and silverware from the drawers. “After you help me with the shed,” he said gruffly, “I’ll see what I can find to make you an arm.”_ _

_ _Junkrat’s ears perked up, his eyes wide. “Really? You will?”_ _

_ _“Yeah.” He ladled a generous helping of eggs, potatoes, and bacon onto Junkrat’s plate. Everything but the avocado toast - he couldn’t see Junkrat willingly eating anything green. “Can’t make it for you, but I can help you get some parts.”_ _

_ _He heard a thump from behind him, and then a strong, wiry arm wrapped around his chest and squeezed. The feeling of two horns pressed gently against his back. “Thanks,” Junkrat said softly, and Mako closed his eyes. _ _

_ _“Alright, enough. Don’t worry about it. Go sit down.” _ _

_ _Junkrat did, although it was less sitting and more perching, hovering over the table and watching Mako with hungry eyes. He looked suspiciously down at the plate Mako set in front of him. “The hell’s all this?”_ _

_ _“Food,” Mako grunted, pouring himself some coffee and a cup of juice for Junkrat. The last thing he needed was a caffeinated demon. “Eat.”_ _

_ _The bacon disappeared down Junkrat’s gullet in record time, but he still didn’t look too sure about the eggs and potatoes. “Is it meat?”_ _

_ _“Sure,” Mako said, downing his coffee and going back for a refill. “Just eat it.” _ _

_ _When he turned back around, Junkrat’s plate was entirely clean, the demon looking satisfied with himself. “Weird meat. But pretty good.”_ _

_ _Mako chuckled softly, shaking his head and sitting down to his own breakfast. He was a few bites in before he realized Junkrat was staring at him. “What?”_ _

_ _“Did you just _laugh?”__ _

_ _Mako furrowed his brow, looking back down at his plate. “No.”_ _

_ _“You did!”_ _

_ _“No. Go put on a shirt.” _ _

_ _“Nope!” Junkrat said with delight. Mako could see his tail swishing behind him. “Let’s go find some parts.”_ _

_ _“After breakfast. After we fix the shed.”_ _

_ _“Be easier for me to do with two hands,” he said craftily. _ _

_ _Mako sighed. “We’ll look for parts while we’re building. Okay?”_ _

_ _He put the dishes in the sink, resigning to leave the rest of the cleaning up until later. Junkrat was already practically hopping up and down, and he dreaded what the demon might get up to if Mako made him wait five more minutes. _ _

_ _Junkrat followed him as he went to let the hogs out of the barn. He made Junkrat stay several feet behind him, but the hogs reacted better than he thought they would. They were still wary, but their eyesight was poor and Junkrat must have smelled more like Mako now than himself, so there was no panic. Mako let out a sigh of relief. _ _

_ _“Heyyy, hoggie woggies,” Junkrat cooed, waving at them. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna eat you.” He laughed. “Well. I already did. And I did this morning.”_ _

_ _“Don’t say that,” Mako grunted, pulling the hose over to refill the trough he’d turned over last night._ _

_ _“Why not? Don’t they know?”_ _

_ _“They don’t know. They’re animals.”_ _

_ _“Then it doesn’t matter if I tell them.” Junkrat, bolstered by the nonviolent reception from the hogs, had slunk closer to Mako, watching him. _ _

_ _“Still. Don’t.” Mako put a thumb over the opening of the hose to create a spray, turning it briefly on Junkrat. “Back up. I don’t want to rile them up again.”_ _

_ _Junkrat let out a shriek, sputtering as though Mako had doused him with turpentine rather than with a few drops of water. “I _told_ you, that melts demons!”_ _

_ _“And I told _you,_ it doesn’t.” He shut off the hose, tossing it back on the ground and heading for the burned-out husk of the shed with a sigh._ _


End file.
